


With Her Blessing

by StarlitSky



Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is supposed to be the happiest day of her life...so why isn't she smiling? One-shot, Charley-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Her Blessing

Turning to stand in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the wall, Charley took a look at herself. She took a good, long look at the way she was right now, with her hair pulled back from her face and sweet-smelling blossoms tucked carefully between the soft waves. Her skin looking rosy and flawless from head to toe and her cheeks glowing, with a soft shimmer around her eyes that made them seem impossibly green as they drifted from her face to her gown. Her gown which down to the last fiber was the gown traditionally worn by Martian mouse brides.

She knew that a million different thoughts could be circling in her mind right now, but the only thing inside her head was a single question: how did she get here?

It was an easy enough question to answer. She could pin it down to one moment, the moment that triggered the chain of events that led her to where she now stood.

And that was the moment Carbine got sick.

No...that probably wasn't right--or fair. She should probably pin it on the moment she chose to follow a certain trio of mice and moved here to Mars, which wasn't really something she had needed to do. After the Plutarkian presence had been completely removed from Earth, she could have stayed right where she was and lived comfortably for the rest of her life. Lived alone, while the three of them went home and continued with their fight. She could have gone back to her old job, her old routines--her old life, the way it was before she met them. Her old, boring life.

Leaving her garage had been the hard part, but in the end she never thought twice about it, never looked back. As soon as she landed here she jumped right into battling alongside the three mice just like she always did, even though her life was in more danger than ever. It wasn't an easy existence, but when the fight was finally over, it was over for good. Peace returned to Mars and she had the privilege of being here to help them rebuild.

A small, unspoken part of herself might have been expecting things to go a little differently than they did where she and a certain white mouse was concerned, but something happened early on that ensured that those things would never be; they found Harley. If there had been that same small, unspoken part somewhere inside of Vinnie, it was instantly doomed to remain silent and forgotten, because it was obvious from the second the two mice set eyes on each other again that they were going to pick up on the exact note they left off on.

In the months that followed Charley briefly worried that their rapidly budding relationship would bother her, but in the end it didn't. She never stopped to think about what might have been, what she could have had. It wasn't worth ruining their friendship over, and it wasn't long before that quiet feeling of 'what if?' was gone, erased from her mind.

She was pretty sure the fact that she and Harley had immediately clicked had helped. Surrounded by so many raucous males, it was nice having another girl to talk to, especially one who got everything so well. The pretty mouse got it all; the pain, the frustration, the struggle, how hard it was to go on sometimes when you weren't sure anything you did made any difference...how annoying the males in their lives could be.

After the war, Harley was the one who helped her get a job at the military base, doing repair-work on army vehicles. Similarly skilled, the young mouse worked close by--along with Primer, Rimfire's twin sister. Charley had never met her before, but when they happened to bump into each other one afternoon while Charley was struggling with an old, clunky engine, the young mouse had happily lent her a hand. The two of them clicked and became friends just as quickly and easily as she and Harley had, and it wasn't long before they had formed a trio of their own. The three of them hung out and did girl things for a change when the boys weren't around--and when they were, the six of them formed a group that was different from what they were before, but still every bit as strong. A niece and uncle, two young lovers, two close friends. It worked.

Every once in a while Carbine would join them, but never often. Even with the war over and everyone else having a good time, she had her duties, and those duties came before anything--and anyone--else in her life. As time went on, Charley could tell that the distance that always seemed to exist between the two of them bothered Throttle sometimes, but he never talked about it. Never mentioned out loud but always seemed aware of how their lives didn't seem to ever match up. How Carbine was always busy when he went to see her, and he was off tearing around in the middle of nowhere when she came looking for him.

Charley came across her one day, right after she'd missed him taking off for a joyride, and found that she recognized the look on the General's face. She'd seen that look on her own face once or twice--that look you got when you felt like you weren't quite connecting. Sure, she loved living here on Mars, and loved being around her closest friends all the time...but there was no denying that sometimes that uncomfortable feeling of not completely fitting in crept up on her. It came whenever Vinnie was hurrying someplace romantic with Harley, and Modo was dragging his adult niece and nephew off fishing, and Throttle and Carbine actually managed to coordinate their schedules. And then she would be left alone. The odd one out.

It had happened that very day, only this time Carbine had been left out too. Tired and frustrated, the female mouse had vented on her for a while--which Charley took an as invitation to do the same. Carbine was someone who understood that feeling of not connecting far better than anyone else in her life. The hardened officer had recognized a kinship in her that neither of them had noticed before, and after that day they started going to each other whenever they had no one else to talk to. The other two girls...they were for fun days and shopping and for joking around with when the guys were gone. Carbine was the one who really understood the darker moments in life, and Charley found herself trusting her with things she didn't feel comfortable telling anyone else.

She would have never expected it, but even though the two of them didn't see each other all that frequently, the military woman became the best friend she had ever had. The one she could lean on whenever she needed someone to listen, the one she knew would never judge. It was a door that swung both ways. She was the one Carbine wanted to talk to after she'd had a rough day, or after she and Throttle had a fight. Over the next couple of years, their friendship became the one constant in her life, the one thing Charley knew she could always count on.

And then Carbine got sick.

Charley never fully understood just what was wrong with her. She didn't have a disease known to anyone from Earth, but one thing was clear; Martian mice could develop terminal illnesses just like humans. Not that being sick slowed her down any...at first. She stayed obstinately on active duty until she was literally bedridden, after which she unceremoniously retired, though Charley was sure that if she had been able to stay on her feet, she would have continued with her duties until her heart stopped beating.

Once she couldn't really move around anymore, she started fading pretty quickly--and not from a lack of will to live. Stubborn as ever, she spent her days writing her memoirs...while most nights she barely kept back the tears as she fought with the pain.

It was hard, watching someone who used to be so strong and capable wasting away until her bones were sharply visible through her thinning fur. Her dark eyes lost their luster and her voice grew weak and thin--but she never once sighed in lament or complained. It was the hand she'd been dealt, and she would quietly play it to the end. She didn't ask Charley to stay with her, but even if she'd had somewhere to be, Charley wouldn't have gone anywhere else for anything.

The others had their own lives to build and only visited as often as they felt was necessary. You couldn't really blame them; when life was flowing so strongly inside you, the last thing you wanted to be around was death. By this time Vinnie and Harley had been married for months and were busy settling into their new home together, and Modo, sensitive big guy that he was, had been spending as much time with his mama as he could. The aging mouse was still as healthy as ever, but she had slowed down a little in recent months, and her loving son wanted to spend every moment with her that he could and make sure she was as comfortable and happy as possible...just in case the next few years of her life were her last.

So that meant it was just the three of them, because of course Throttle stayed with Carbine too--battling with the inevitable, rapidly approaching loss and the guilt he felt. Guilt over the wasted time, all the moments that could have been so much more. Charley made sure to keep her distance, staying out of the way as he spent hours at his dying love's side, speaking in hushed tones as they worked out what was still between them.

Even though she tried to give them their space, she still ended up seeing and hearing things she wasn't supposed to. Things that made her heart ache for them both.

The long nights were the hardest for all of them. Carbine hated being seen in such a weakened state, and the two of them hated seeing her like this almost as much, but she needed them to stick around. She needed someone to prepare her meals for her, to help her change clothes and wash her hair...and to stay silently by her side when the pain came. Charley knew that she had to be in near-constant discomfort, but the worst of the pain usually came at night, like a punishment for expending too much energy throughout the day.

She generally weathered it with her usual hardened expression, but sometimes it became too much even for her. With her joints throbbing and her lungs burning, she would roll onto her side and press her face into the pillow, muffling the noises she made. Sometimes it sounded like she was grunting in anger, other times it almost sounded like she was trying not to sob. On the worst nights one of them would sit with her, taking turns as the hours wore on, until finally she fell asleep. But sometimes, even when the pain was at its most intense, the long-time leader's pride would hurt even worse and she would tell them both to get lost.

They obeyed, though they never went far. As the weeks wore on, they developed a routine; after making sure she was settled in for the night, they would sit up for the next few hours in the living room, keeping themselves busy and making light conversation while they both listened for sounds of restless movement, or muffled cries of pain. They distracted each other and themselves with monotonous activities, like card games, or recalling past adventures--or sometimes the lack of sleep and sugar buzz from the root beer they always sipped got to them and they'd hold juvenile contests, like who could chug the most bottles before having to race to the bathroom.

During their time at the General's home, neither of them really saw or spoke to any of the others all that much. They both had the same mindset; they were needed here right now, and so they were going to stay until it was over. Which was a horrible thought--literally waiting for someone you loved to die. Charley tried to keep that thought at bay, but once in a while it would brutally enter her mind and she would start to come apart. The two of them had never spent so much time together before, but she was beyond grateful to have Throttle around, dealing with this with her. He was there for her each time she needed help getting it back together.

In the beginning she tried to keep up appearances, as did Throttle, but as the months ticked by, all their barriers and boundaries slowly fell away. It was like going away to a place detached from the rest of reality, a place where you didn't keep any secrets, or hide any part of yourself, or anything you felt--because you didn't need to. When the first thing you did when you woke up every morning was check to see if your best friend was still breathing...what else really mattered?

Before their time in Carbine's small home was over, she and Throttle grew closer than Charley had ever been to another person before. They saw each other at their very worst, they shared laughs at the memories, they comforted each other when the tears came. Though the tears only ever came for her...except for once. Months after she was first bedridden, Carbine had her worst night yet, and right before she fell asleep (or maybe she passed out from the pain, Charley wasn't sure) she told them to stop dilly-dallying and start planning her funeral already.

That had been something they'd avoided discussing so far, but after receiving such frank orders, they didn't have a whole lot of choice. Throttle told Charley not to worry about it, saying that he'd go and take care of it in the morning while she stayed here. Stayed here while he went out and made plans to bury the one he loved.

Charley never saw him break down like that before--never imagined that he could. He tried to hold it off, but in the end he slumped beside her on the couch and wept so hard he shook all over. Not knowing what else to do, Charley had held him. Put her arms around him and hugged his shaking form to her as she silently stroked his hair, hoping that the small gesture would be enough to comfort him, at least a little.

She looked back on that moment countless times later, but the whole thing was hazy and she couldn't be sure who made a move first. But that night was the first time they kissed. They'd clung to each other like they were hanging on for dear life and drunk from each other's mouth as if it was the only thing that would keep them both breathing, and it never once crossed her mind to stop it. She willingly kissed her best friend's boyfriend while her best friend lay dying in the next room. It was wrong on so many levels.

The guilt set in before the sun finished rising the next morning, but the two of them didn't really get a chance to talk about it. By the end of that very week, Carbine had been freed from her pain and was laid to rest.

Feeling like she had just woken up from a long hibernation, Charley had gone back to work, to life as usual--though she soon realized that nothing would ever be the same again. She tried at first to fight it--they both did--but it wasn't long before they figured out that what was happening between her and Throttle was beyond their control. It felt like no time at all before he was deeply rooted in every last part of her life. She had shared so much with him over the last few months, and she continued to share those things, along with so much more. There was nowhere to hide; he found his way into her home, her bed, her heart.

His was a presence that made her feel whole in a way she never had before. He seemed to latch on so easily to everything that she was, like links of chain joining together. That feeling of not quite fitting in fell away and never came back. She knew where she fit now, where she belonged--who she belonged to.

And now here you are, Charley thought, as she pressed her fingertips to the mirror. Minutes away from vowing to love and be with him for as long as you live.

But as she looked herself over again, taking in the soft folds of her beautiful pale green gown, all she could seem to think about was how if she was still alive, someone else would be standing in her place right now. Someone else would be-- _should_ be--wearing this gown, about to marry the mouse who at this very moment was getting ready in the room just down the hall.

A tiny voice deep inside her tried to point out that she was probably wrong--that the fact that Carbine had repeatedly refused Throttle's proposals and wouldn't let their relationship get any closer than arm's-length had been one of the biggest problems between them--but Charley wasn't listening. With tears clouding her vision, she pulled her hand away from the mirror and took a shaky step back, leaving frost-like smudges on the glass before they faded like ghosts. "I can't do this."

Her legs felt weak, and as she turned away from the mirror they buckled; she sank to her knees and doubled-over, face in her hands as she pressed down into a rippling pool of frothy green material. "I can't do this," she repeated, trembling and shaking her head.

Harley, who had been busy attaching tiny white blossoms to the straps of her bridal shoes, hastily dropped everything and knelt beside her, running a soothing hand over her bare shoulders. "Don't freak out," she said gently. "Believe me, I know how you feel--I got the worst case of cold feet right before I married Vinnie."

Charley quickly shook her head again--much to the annoyance of Primer, who was in the middle of trying to straighten out the flowers she had knocked loose from her hair. "I mean it," she said faintly. "I can't marry him."

She let her limp hands drop into her lap, while the two mouse girls exchanged worried glances. "But, you love him, don't you?" Primer ventured uncertainly.

"Of course I do," Charley responded numbly. "I love him more than I ever thought I could possibly love someone."

He was everything she never imagined would ever be hers, the missing part of her she never knew she needed until he was firmly in place. She couldn't picture her life without him anymore, but with fresh tears flooding her eyes she whispered, "She should be the one standing here, not me. I feel like I'm betraying her."

She pressed a hand to her mouth and choked back a sob, while Harley gave Primer a helpless look--just before she turned her head and stared off into the distance for a second, like she had remembered something. She quickly reached out and squeezed both of Charley's hands tightly. "Don't go anywhere," she ordered. "I'll be right back--there's something I need to give you."

The Martian mechanic got up and scurried out of the room, frilly skirt clutched in her hands. While she was gone, Primer tugged the teary Earthling to her feet and stubbornly dried her eyes, refreshed her makeup, perfected her hair, and helped her into her shoes. Charley could tell that she was determined for this wedding to take place, and the young human wanted more than anything for that to happen--and to let the joy she should be feeling right now rise up and push everything else away, but all she could feel was the guilt. It swelled like a bubble inside her chest and tightened her throat, and she pressed a hand over her heart as she struggled to take a breath--while in her mind she wondered just how guilty Throttle was feeling right now, too.

She knew that he did, even if he never said so. She heard it in the times while they were talking about their future he suddenly trailed off and fell silent. She felt it on the nights he stopped holding her and rolled to face the other way. And she saw it, when he thought she wasn't looking, as he rode away to visit Carbine's grave.

All she wanted was for him to be happy, and she knew he wanted the same thing for her...but was it right? Did they have any right to be together, let alone feel so much happiness every time they were in each other's arms?

She was afraid to have that question answered, but a few minutes later Harley came running back into the room, out of breath and the perfect curls she had coiled on top of her head pulling loose. She didn't waste a word; she just hurried over to Charley and thrust a plain, unopened envelope into her hands. The Earth mechanic stared at it blankly. "What...?"

"Carbine gave it to me, right before she..."

Clearly her throat, Harley brushed a curl away from her eyes and flashed an uncertain smile. "She told me to put it away someplace safe until you needed to see it. I asked her when that would be, but...all she would say was that I would know."

With a shrug, she smiled again, her eyes caring. "I think you need to see it now."

Charley felt her throat tighten again as she realized what she was holding. She had always thought it was a little melodramatic when someone talked about getting a letter from beyond the grave...but now she knew how they felt. Her hands trembled as she turned the envelope over; there was nothing on the back except for an official-looking military seal. "Do you know what's in it?" she faltered.

Harley shook her head. "She didn't say. It's for you, not me."

Or for anyone else, Charley realized dazedly. This moment was meant just for her.

Her movements felt robotic as she drifted to a corner of the room and tore the seal open with a quivering finger. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper, folded twice and scrawled in a shaky, uneven hand--probably one of the last things Carbine ever wrote, she thought numbly.

She expected to start crying so hard she wouldn't be able to finish reading--but even as her eyes clouded she focused on the first line and found herself chuckling out loud, a smile spreading across her face as warmth filled her heart.

_'To the most kick-ass mechanic in the galaxy,_

_If you're reading this right now, it means I'm dead and you're being a stubborn ninny about something. And judging from the way you and my former boyfriend have been looking at each other lately then you've probably gotten a lot closer now that I'm not in the way anymore--and you're probably feeling guilty about it. Well, I've got just one word for you._

_Don't._

_I've already let him go. I could be dead before morning--what the hell am I going to do with him? But I know you, Charlene. I know what _you'll_ do with him. You'll love him and let him into your life in all the ways I never could. You'll put him first. You'll never have something more important to do that'll make you leave him alone. You'll be everything for him that I couldn't, even when I wanted to, and there's no one else alive I'd ever trust to take care of him for me. I know you want to--and I know how thick-headed that ex of mine can be, so I'm not going to take the chance that he got the message when I told him it's okay for him to be happy once I'm gone and spell it out for you both._

_Be together. Love each other. Make each other happy. You have my blessing.'_

At the bottom she had signed 'Carbine,' simple and plain. It was just like her to have known what was going on all along, Charley thought. With tears steadily falling from her eyes she began folding the letter again...but then she stopped herself. The envelope fell forgotten to the floor as she gathered her skirts in her hands and rushed out of the room, barely noticing as Harley and Primer called after her in surprise.

Charley's heart was pounding as she hurried, half-stumbling in her heels, down the hall and through an open doorway--silly superstitions be damned.

Throttle barely had a chance to turn around and register surprise on his face before she reached him, throwing her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder as she continued to cry quietly. She knew she'd startled him, but he didn't ask questions; he simply put his arms around her--after discreetly signalling to Modo and Vinnie to give them a minute. Charley heard them whispering to each other as they tiptoed out of the room.

When they were gone, Throttle lifted her face and tenderly wiped her tears away. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Charley knew she would only stumble over the words if she tried to explain it, so she quickly pressed the letter into his hands. "It's from Carbine," she said in response to his questioning look--which only made him raise his eyebrows higher. "She wrote it before--just read it. It was written to me, but...it's a message for both of us."

Her fiancé grew quiet as he read the short letter, and while she couldn't see his eyes behind his darkly-tinted shades as they drifted over the words, she could tell when he had finished by the way he released a slow breath. "We don't have to feel guilty anymore," Charley told him.

Throttle remained quiet as he folded the letter and tucked it inside his wedding jacket, then reached out and pulled her close to him, cupping the back of her head as it rested on his shoulder again. "I admit that I've felt guilty from time to time," he said in a low voice, "but one thing I've never felt is shame. I could never be ashamed of how I feel about you, or of what we have."

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes--but this time they stemmed from joy. Charley wrapped her arms around her husband-to-be tightly as she whispered, "I've never been ashamed either. You're the best surprise that ever came my way and I'm so glad to have you in my life."

Throttle's smile was gentle as he lifted her face again and kissed her forehead. "Good, because now that I have you, I plan to keep you."

He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, then asked with a grin, "You ready to head out there and make it official?"

Charley let out a laugh and absently wiped her eyes. "I think so. You?"

The tan mouse's expression softened as he drew his fingers over her cheek before cupping her face. "And how. No mouse ever had a prettier bride."

Flushing with pride and happiness, the young mechanic threw her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard before she was ready to let go again. Feeling like she was glowing--and feeling like her best friend was watching them with a smile--she took hold of his hand and held it tightly. "Together?"

His eyes loving above his specs as he looked over them at her, Throttle lifted her hand and placed it on his arm, resting his own hand firmly over her fingers. "Forever."


End file.
